


i'm fallin' like a summer rain

by pastisregret



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, F/M, Identity Reveal, Making Out, Semi Angst, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, semi porn with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastisregret/pseuds/pastisregret
Summary: "And then, there was the worry at what Hawkmoth might do. He was zoning in on their identities, and every time the two interacted she feared he was one step closer to finally uncovering who lay beneath the mask. They couldn’t avoid talking to one another when fighting, but they could when it came to their relationship.Which was another issue. Their relationship."(or, chat noir and ladybug can't keep their hands off each other.)





	i'm fallin' like a summer rain

**Author's Note:**

> okay but real talk this fic has been in the works for the past month or so, and the amazing as ever anita (@chatalyst on tumblr if you aren't following her wyd w/ your life) came up with this idea so i've been trying to give this bitch as much justice as i can... so enjoy hahaHA
> 
> (also maybe this is my way of saying au revoir summer, bonjour college life! because y'all ain't getting shit to read for a while!)

The banquet was lavish. It was supposed to be the biggest event of the summer, perhaps the year if the magazine rumors were reliable. Decorated and dedicated solely for Ladybug and Chat Noir, it was as high scale of an event that it could be. Diplomatic delegations, ambassadors, even a few leaders from across the world had been invited, and most if not all attended, buzzing at the prospect of seeing how well Paris would show their love for their superheroes.

It was after all, Paris, and who else would know how to throw a fancy event if not for the Parisians?

Still, there had been some hesitation in attending. Surely it was an honor to have an event thrown in their honor and was more than expected for them to show up and greet many of the world’s most important people. A dream come true, a look at just how important the two were to the city, and a reflection onto the highlights of their career after the many years looking after the city.

But Ladybug felt unease at the prospect. Attending with Chat Noir would raise brows at the true extent of their partnership and what went on beyond the fights, no doubt about it. The world’s most famous and privileged would be in the same room as them, and with them were reporters, journalists, and news stations from around the world, broadcasting to everyone tuning in.

And then, there was the worry at what Hawkmoth might do. He was zoning in on their identities, and every time the two interacted she feared he was one step closer to finally uncovering who lay beneath the mask. They couldn’t avoid talking to one another when fighting, but they could when it came to their relationship.

Which was another issue. Their relationship.

Marinette couldn’t deny that over the years, something had shifted between the two. Chat Noir was no longer the person she turned down, or the guy she so constantly stopped from pursuing _whatever_ it was they had. He had changed. _She_ had changed. There was that sudden switch, an inhale one moment and an exhale the next, that had resulted in all the difference between the two. And for that difference, everything had been altered.

Unexpectedly, there was now things worth fighting for. A hand brushing back one’s hair, the sweet taste of his lips after a dance in the dark, the way he felt when he pressed his body closer to her and whispered all the things he wanted to do. His laugh when he told her a joke, or how her hand fit into his perfectly. Nights spent curled up on a rooftop, pretending they were patrolling but really finding the opportunity to be alone and just _talk_, nothing in their way.

There were now things she couldn’t afford to lose, and things worth keeping hidden.

Clutching onto Nino’s arm, Marinette was glad he was a well-known musician that bringing him to the banquet wasn’t such a brow raiser, and that he it hadn’t taken too much asking for him to agree to accompany her. Smiling at the reporters at the door, then down the hallway leading to the room, and those perched around the walls inside, she wondered what the world thought as they saw Ladybug, giving small waves and flashing a grin good enough for _Vogue_.

Would they see a superhero, or a girl who just got lucky?

It wouldn’t be hard if they thought the latter, Marinette thought. She didn’t look like a superhero tonight, save for the mask secured to her face. In fact, she didn’t look like herself at all, much more on par with the socialites she had seen strutting around the room, expensive dresses and jewels and hair done up. No longer in the suit, she wore a tight fitting, low back dress in signature Ladybug red, two strips of fabric crossing over her chest to wrap around her neck, secured by clasps waiting to be undone and a slit that danced its way up to her upper thigh. A triangle of skin showed from her stomach where the two sections of fabric hadn’t crossed, and a scar from a particular nasty akuma fight, pale and jagged line, danced in that open space, an added accessory to the look.

As they stood in front of a line of reporters, bright lights aimed in their direction and questions asked with every breath, she couldn’t hide the grin on her face as rustles emerged and rumors spouted about her dress. As they moved on, walking close enough to hear yet far away that no bold journalist would try to unmask her, Marinette heard a voice say the dress had been taken straight off Agreste’s fall collection, and another one gush it wasn’t that but a new Elie Saab.

It wasn’t either of them. It was a Marinette Dupain-Cheng original, and she would gladly tell it over and over again until the reporters ears bled and their thumbs went sore from googling the name. In fact, moving her leg just so the inside of the slit was shown, she made sure the embroidered _Marinette_ was on full display, certain when she moved her leg back that more than enough pictures had been taken.

“Hey, Ladybug, there’s Chat Noir and Alya,” Nino says, head gesturing to the adjacent entrance, where the two were walking in and stopping in front of a display for pictures. “We should go over, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, lowering her voice for only Nino to hear. “Now, try to not bring up any superhero talk unless it’s just about Chat and I. We don’t want word getting out that you and Alya are Carapace and Rena Rouge, okay?”

Nino nods, already leading her their way. As their dates for the evening, both Alya and Nino knew that while it was an honor to attend the banquet alongside two of Paris’ superheroes, it was also a duty as superheroes themselves. They weren’t just accompanying, but there as an extra layer of protection. The world’s most important were in one room, and should push come to shove, they needed to have backup ready if it called for it.

_Including Chloé_, Marinette thinks, her eyes flickering over to the table she was seated at, mirror in hand and looking bored at her reflection. There was never a bad thing as _too_ much backup, and with the thought of Hawkmoth trying something, she was ready and willing to pull her aside and hand her the bee miraculous as well if it would help save the day.

Although, that’d be if Hawkmoth was planning to strike tonight. _If_ he even planned to do anything other than wait in the shadows and make her paranoid, on edge with every glance around the room.

A cheer snapped her out of her thoughts, bringing her back into focus. This wasn’t about him. Tonight was about Ladybug. Her and Chat Noir, and no one else. No villain or akuma or _anything_ would get in the way of what was truly important, and Marinette found it easier to cling onto that fact with every step she took, not wanting to lose out on what might very well be the best night of her life.

As they neared, Marinette took the time to admire Alya’s dress, long and brushing against the floor as she moved. She had helped her pick out the dress for the banquet earlier that month, and took liberty at altering it to better suit her best friend’s figure, alterations that weren’t ignored the longer Alya was in the room. The gentle curve from slim waist to wide hips was on full display tonight, and the slight dip that exposed her cleavage was more than enough to not just draw in attention, but keep it.

The color was gorgeous as well, green that worked with Chat Noir’s signature gaze. Alya had planned to wear black to match his superhero suit and nothing more, but Marinette jumped at the chance to suggest green, a suggestion she hadn’t quite been able to explain to Alya. Even more interesting to Alya had been how Marinette got the shade perfectly right, hard to do unless she got close enough to memorize them.

But she couldn’t have, right? Marinette was just a mere acquaintance, someone brought into the picture when the rare akuma called for it or targeted her, _right_? There was no way to explain how she could explain with confidence just how comforting that shade of green was, or how it shifted from peridot to emerald with ease.

There was no way to explain how she had looked into his eyes time and time again, hands reaching out with the intent to touch his skin and feel his hair, and coming up empty every time, suits dividing their distance even when they were centimeters away. No just and sure way to sit down her best friend and tell her the closest person to her heart was also the one person she couldn’t come close to, no matter how her heart wished for it.

And _oh_, did she wish for it.

At the thought of him, she felt her heart twist, an ache of pain she could only describe as longing. She longed to be with Chat, far from the attacks they did together or the patrols in broad daylight. She craved his touch outside of shadows and rushed embraces, the quick kisses outshining the moments they had more than a few minutes alone. She yearned for moments where she didn’t have to look around before a kiss, or slipped behind the corner to detransform in peace just seconds away from an unwanted reveal.

But they were nothing more than just things to wish for, things she could dream about and wish along every shooting star. And with that were the things that had come true, things she needed to keep hidden as small and spread apart as they were.

Things she was willing to fight for.

Finally mustering the courage to actually focus on him, Marinette moved her eyes away from Alya and finally rested them on Chat Noir, thoughts creating too much of an image of him for her to not place the living piece within her grasp.

She sucked in a breath, heart stopping and her foot almost fumbling mid-step. Nino raised his arm slightly, providing her with the balance she needed to stay upright and saving her from an embarrassing fall, but Marinette was sure it would happen again the longer she looked.

Now _that_ was an Agreste. Tailored suit, snug around his shoulders and showing off just how fit he had gotten over the years, she let her eyes trail down to the buttons keeping his suit jacket closed, wondering how much work she’d have to put in before he’d let her put her hands on him and get them undone. It was dark black, the perfect definition of noir, and a green tie was snug around his neck, all he needed to use in order to send the message who was Ladybug’s counterpart.

Although, Marinette reasoned, the black mask around his face, nestled into that always messy bundle of blond, would work too. Hand twitching with the urge to place her hands through his hair, she gritted her teeth, intent on getting through the night without her wants getting the best of her.

She couldn’t blame herself though. It would be their first time together without the suits in their way, the first interaction that wouldn’t end with a beep of an earring or a ring, or a person to tend to after the akuma had done its deed. Marinette knew it was a rare opportunity, and that for the first time, she’d get the chance to put her hands on him.

Marinette wouldn’t though. She couldn’t afford the chance, not with Hawkmoth around the corner whenever she turned. Eyes finally going up to rest on the ones hidden behind that black mask, she made contact with Chat Noir, gentle green finally coming into contact with bolstering blue.

A simple look, and yet so much crossed between them in those few seconds. Only a few feet separated the two, but now, glancing at each other amidst a room full of cameras and reporters and onlookers, it felt like an ocean’s worth of distance lay between the two, reminding them to be wary of every motion they took the rest of the night.

It reminded her of just how much he meant.

Nino and Alya already stepped into a conversation, discussing the decor and the people and the cameras and probably a thousand different things Marinette couldn’t focus on or pretend to care about because all she knew was right in front of her. Chat was standing so tall and so strong and so sophisticated she had a hard time believing it was the same kitty who had spent years on end making jokes, slouching on rooftops, and even one time stealing a bottle of rosé for the two to pop open and share after a hard akuma had been defeated. It was like he was in his element, all regal energy and angles she hadn’t seen on him before but somehow _worked_, more familiar than ever.

Again, her hand twitched, a motion she couldn’t bother fighting back this time. She could feel the urge to just put one hand on him and see just how he felt without the suit. She had spent nights imagining how smooth his skin would be, and how the battle scars must have left plenty of small lines she would gladly trace her hands over on, over and over until she could repeat the marks on paper.

Marinette stiffened, shifting her weight from one heeled foot to the next. It was no good to come separately if she spent all evening looking him, imagining what could be instead of what was. Worrying the bottom of her lip, she turned her gaze off him and smiled at Alya, removing her arm from Nino and holding out a hand her way.

Alya ignores it, arms going around to hug her and press a kiss to her cheek, all too used to interacting with Ladybug over the years both as a reporter and a fellow superhero that simple formalities weren’t enough.

“Ladybug!” she exclaims, “I can’t thank you enough for asking Nino and I to join you two for the night. This is _unreal_.”

“Thank you two for agreeing,” Marinette responds, pressing a hello of her own on Alya’s cheek. She fought back the best friend urge to squeeze her a little harder, Ladybug’s personality and actions needing to take center stage for now. “It means so much that two… _citizens_ are so willing to lend a hand.”

It’s no secret as to what she’s truly hinting at, Alya pulling away and moving her gaze to beam at Nino, more than pleased with their roles for the night. If she could report it to the Ladyblog Marinette was sure she’d be reading a five-page article in the morning.

Speaking of the Ladyblog, Marinette remembered, Alya had been an almost automatic invite due to the website. As owner and top journalist for the majority of Ladybug and Chat Noir information, not having her attend would’ve been a criminal act with all the work and effort she put in over the years.

And still, she decided not to go by that title tonight. Yes, it’d be labeled on her dining seat and announced when the speeches begun, but for all watching without a clue who she was, Alya Césaire was simply the arm candy to Chat Noir for now, while her boyfriend played a similar role on Ladybug’s, no complaints raised.

Marinette had the sneaking suspicion it hadn’t been so hard for Nino and Alya to accept the invites as their dates for a reason. A reason neither would outright say, and a reason Ladybug and Chat Noir had trouble figuring out how to explain for themselves.

In a way, she was sure Alya knew. If not from a journalist’s intuition, then from being a loyal devotee to all things Ladybug and Chat Noir all these years.

And if she knew, who knew who else did.

“Ladybug?” Alya asks, brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

The dip in tone from lively to worried reminds Marinette to control the thoughts seeping in her brain before she zoned out all night, something not particularly wished for with the world’s eye on them. She blinked, then gave a small smile their way.

“I’m guess I’m just a bit nervous for tonight,” she lies, finding an excuse off the top of her head. “I hope they don’t call me up to make a speech or anything, you know.”

Alya nodded sympathetically, face relaxing at her explanation. “Don’t worry. If they do, you’ll be fine! You’re Ladybug, after all. What can’t you do right?”

Nino nods, raising his thumbs up in agreement. “Just enjoy what you can, like how _wicked_ the event hall looks. I can’t believe Adrien’s dad is holding this event in your and Chat Noir’s honor, or that Mayor Bourgeois agreed to host it here.”

“You know, ‘Adrien’s dad’ has a name,” Alya says, chuckling.

He frowned, nose scrunching up. “He has a name all right, but it’s not one anyone in this room should hear.”

Marinette hid back a smile, knowing all too well what kind of words Nino used when he had the chance to describe Gabriel, and knew Alya wouldn’t be able to hide them if Nino spoke any further. Turning her face to the reporters, she grabbed their attention while she could with a wave and smile, questions thrown out covering up Alya’s voice as she spoke.

“_Nino_! That is _rude_, and we are in front of- ”

Chat’s laugh interrupts her, like a breeze coming in on a hot day and startling a picnic table. He laughs, and it grabs Marinette’s attention, makes her look away from the cameras and the questions and the people and train her eyes on him.

_Only_ on him.

Marinette eyes trained on him, watching the way his curls moved with every laugh. Or maybe she was focused on the way he had on a set of cat ears, the band snug on his head. He probably had bought them just for tonight, as a funny bit to showcase the trademark ears that made up his superhero getup.

_It was funny_, she thought, smile growing on her face. _No, _he_ was funny_, she fixed. Chat Noir was funny and silly and all too willing to play up the antics whenever he could, and she couldn’t help but fall for it each and every single time.

“I like to say I agree with Nino on this one,” Chat finally says when he’s done laughing, cheeks flushed. “And I for one would love to hear the names he’s saved.”

Nino grins, arm stretched out to bump fists with him. Chat accepts it, looking all too pleased.

“Oh, come _on_, Chat Noir,” Alya says, attempting once more to stop before her boyfriend started in on his long list of descriptive names for the man of the hour. “Listen, I know he’s not the _best_ dad in the world- “

_Not by a long shot_, Adrien thought to himself.

“Or the best boss sometimes-”

_Not even close_.

“But he certainly is kind enough to throw this banquet, out of his own pocket at that. We should at least try to give Gabriel that,” Alya finishes, looking to Ladybug for added support. “Right?”

Marinette pauses, her mind going in one way while her etiquette goes the other. While she isn’t fond of Gabriel, nor the way he’s treated Adrien over the past years, she can’t outright go and say that. It’d be out of line, and most of all, quite the scandal if anyone overheard both Chat Noir and Ladybug pronouncing their distaste for Gabriel Agreste, the person who arranged for tonight to even come to fruition. Chat she could pass off, but it’d be pretty hard as Ladybug to clear anything that went out her mouth.

So, she’d have to bend to etiquette’s will. Gritting her teeth, Marinette raised the corners of her lips, forming a well-meant smile.

“Of course,” she says. “In fact, I’ll make sure to personally thank him for everything if I run into him tonight.”

“_See_,” Alya says, so proud Marinette’s sure she would fist pump the air under different circumstances. “I knew Ladybug would have my back.”

“But he’s not even here,” Nino points out. “He’s probably drafting up new designs or planning what new way he’ll make Adrien’s life hell.”

“Speaking of, when is Adrien coming?” Alya turns her head around, glancing at each entrance in case they missed his arrival. “I thought he’d be here by now with Chloé or something.”

Nino frowns, shaking his head. “No dice. He texted me earlier he wasn’t coming.”

“Oh really?” Chat asks, head titled. “Why not?”

“He’s leaving for Milan tomorrow morning, and his dad thinks he shouldn’t stay up late at some fancy event when he could be asleep. Again, another way to make his life hell.”

“Sounds tough,” Chat says. “Wish we could have properly met him outside of an akuma attack.”

Marinette nods, the first time she’s acknowledged Chat all night outside of her mind. She can’t pretend not to care. It’s Adrien, after all, a close friend with the mask off and a person targeted quite often in akuma attacks with the mask on. It would’ve been the first time that Ladybug and Chat Noir would’ve been able to talk one on one with him, past the chaos of akumas reigning terror on Paris, and the first time they could thank him for how often he stepped in to help during attacks.

It also would’ve been the first time she’d be able to address him as Ladybug normally, nerves and her crush long since gone. A kitten had stolen her heart after all, distracting every small thought that ran through her head.

Still, she supposed no one could fight a schedule that intense, especially when it was both his upbringing and career. Even Chat had something planned tomorrow, something she couldn’t ask too much about without giving away too much about his civilian life. They had planned ahead though, picking out which miraculous holders they would have to call in to get the job done if needed, and how to work around Chat’s absence during the week he’d be gone.

An absence that wouldn’t go unnoticed by Ladybug, no matter how hard she’d prepare for it.

“We’ll make sure to take tons of pictures to show him when he gets back from his trip. Marinette too, since she couldn’t make it,” Nino says, hand gesturing to the photographers. “There shouldn’t be a shortage of pics either.”

Chat tilts his head, brow arched. “She couldn’t come? Why?”

“Yeah, why couldn’t she come?” Marinette shifts from foot to foot, trying to match his expression as she speaks.

“Cold,” Alya explains, frown forming on her face. “Marinette came down with it today, and her parents said she knocked out after taking some medicine.”

“She’s _crazy_ contagious whenever she gets sick,” Nino adds. “Trust me, it’s better for everyone if we let her rest up for now.”

“How awful.” Looking down, Marinette whispers a quick thank you to the special kind of luck she gets, the kind of luck that makes excuses like this easy to buy despite her constant mishaps. The luck that shows itself in weird ways, situations suddenly shifted by a change of power not entirely human.

“She’d love to see all the outfits here. Especially yours, Ladybug,” Alya says.

“Thank you,” she starts, “I’m really glad to hear that.” A hand flying down, Marinette adjusts the slit of her dress, a brief flash showing the inside and her name embroidered in.

Alya’s eyes go wide at the sight, all too familiar with her best friend’s signature touch. “Hold on,” she says, voice rising. “Did _Marinette_ design your dress for tonight?”

Marinette flashes an awkward smile, cheeks going red. She had wanted to show off who designed Ladybug’s dress for the night, but hadn’t planned for the part where her best friend would notice. Moving her leg, she showed off the embroidered name inside her dress, wondering what kind of luck got her into _this_ situation.

“It looks nice, right?” she asks, holding the slit a bit open as she spoke. Fumbling for ways to compliment herself, Marinette scrambled for something to say. “I uh, can’t thank her enough for designing it.”

“This’ll be so good for the Ladyblog,” Alya starts, almost crouching down to get close up shots. “I’m gonna get _so_ much exclusive content the other journalists are going to lose their minds.”

“I can’t believe Mari isn’t here to see this,” Nino says. “She got sick at the worst moment.”

“Oh trust me, I’ve thanked her enough times.”

“Well _I_ need a few words with her. How could she have kept the hottest scoop from me?” Finally straightening her back, Alya flipped through the pictures she took, most likely crafting an update while she spoke. “This is front and center news that I could’ve posted _ages_ ago.”

“I, uh, asked her to keep it hidden until tonight,” Marinette said, racking her brain around. “I didn’t want to give her any extra pressure, after all.”

“You really are the best.” Alya smiled, finger practically smashing a button on her phone. A few pings sounded out in the room a few moments after, clearly from those who had notifications on for the Ladyblog. And with that, so did the sound of more cameras went off, with Marinette hearing her name thrown around.

“We should find our table,” she says, thinking fast. “If we stay here any longer, we might get swarmed by photographers before the banquet’s even begun.”

Smiling, she lowers her leg, slit hiding most of her skin. Keyword, _most_. There’s still a thin line of pale, smooth skin peeking out and letting its presence be known, a sliver that’s as scandalous as it’s elegant. Not able to get covered up, she gives up on covering it. She did, after all, intend for it to be designed that way.

And for something else. _Someone_ else, if she had to clarify it. Her eyes moving to that someone, she finds the design has met its goal.

Chat Noir’s watching her, eyes focused on her leg. Her leg, which is showing off the most skin she’s ever had on display. Her leg, which leads up to her upper thigh and begs to be further explored. Her leg, which suddenly would look magnificent if it had someone’s hand on it.

Another moment, and they made eye contact. Contact that suddenly didn’t seem like enough.

A slight nod from each other, and it’s clear what they want. What they _need_.

“Actually,” Marinette starts, a hand raising to touch Nino’s shoulder, “I think it’d be better you guys found our table and kept our seats saved. I think Chat Noir and I need to discuss something… patrol related.”

Chat nods, smiling at the two. He holds his hands up, glove free and outstretched. “We just need to clear up some things about the schedule. We’ll be back soon enough.”

“The schedule?” Nino asks. He lowers his voice, looking at Alya. “Should Alya and I join in on this?”

“It’s a bit more… private,” he answers. “I’d love to go into details, but I’m not sure if our kwamis would agree.”

With the mention of their kwamis, Alya and Nino’s faces shift into understanding. Kwamis were still something both had yet to fully understand as they hadn’t crossed into full-time holders, but any mention of them made it more than clear the importance of a discussion. Almost mandatory at that point, with all the knowledge and influence any one of the kwamis could hold.

“Down the hallway there should be somewhere you guys can talk,” Alya says, nudging her head that way. “My mom’s catering team is working tonight, and I know there’s a few rooms not set up for tonight and totally clear for you guys to talk in.

Moving her hand from Nino’s shoulder, Marinette raised it up to her face, tucking hair behind her ear. She shifted her eyes to where Alya had motioned, and spotted the hallway, along with a strict “No guests beyond here” sign hanging just next to it. _Perfect_.

No guests may have been allowed, but Marinette was sure that rule didn’t apply to her and Chat. No, while everyone else was a guest for the evening, they were the _guests of honor_, and she’d be damned if no one would let her use that to her benefit, if for reasons she wasn’t willing to divulge to the public.

“We’ll just duck down there and have a quick talk, then come back in time before the banquet begins,” she says, already moving away and stepping a foot in that direction.

“Don’t worry,” Alya assures, coming closer to Nino and holding his hand. “We’ll make sure no one wonders where you two went.”

Nino throws up a thumbs up with his free hand, before gesturing the two to run off while they still could. With the rise of the banquet approaching, there was no telling how much time they had to spare before the live feeds would keep a consistent camera on the two for the rest of the night. And with that, no telling before they’d have to separate and keep a courteous distance in front of the public.

Which meant for now, they had to make good use of every second they had.

“Thank you,” Marinette says, smiling at the two. Glancing over at Chat Noir, she let her eyes roam his body for a second before coming up to his face, watching him as she continued, “Come on… Chat.”

It doesn’t take much else for him to follow, their steps closing in on each other as they started to go. In front of Chat Noir, Marinette realized for a second just how exposed her back was, and if he wasn’t just watching her step as they made their way across the floor but something else, something much more enticing to him.

They slipped into the hallway with ease, giving warm smiles to the staff as they passed by them. There was a certain thrill as they walked down towards the unoccupied area, towards the end of the hallway was cast in darkness and showing half a dozen doors shut tight. As they headed for the shadows, Marinette almost felt a thrill as she walked, pace quickening with every step. It wasn’t like she did this every chance she could. She was, after all, a superhero. Superheroes had obligations that, at the end of the day, not even desire could win out on.

Or at least, the majority of the time it didn’t. Now, the last door in the hallway looking at the two and darkness hiding their bodies, Marinette was all for whatever came next.

“You ready?” she asks, watching him place a hand on the doorknob. He tested it, a relived breath leaving the two once it turned without worry, nothing but the next step to occur left.

The next step that they had been waiting for.

“We should be fine,” Chat starts, pushing the door open for her, “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to- “

Marinette’s gotten hold of him before he can finish, hand reaching up to grab at his tie and pull him into the room. The door closes behind them once he’s gotten in, casting the two into darkness.

Neither make for the light.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be so well dressed,” Marinette says, still gripping onto his tie. She’s looking up, eyes adjusting and trying to sort out how he looks with nothing to come from it. He’s smiling though, that she can tell, a Cheshire cat grin that never grew old and teeth that practically _glowed_ in the dark, something Marinette had previously thought was an addition to the suit and not just another part of how perfect he was.

“Neither did you.” Chat’s hands find her waist and grips gently, pointedly avoiding the parts where he might touch her skin. “I like your dress.”

“I knew you would.” Playing the tie, Marinette tilts her head, thinking for a second before asking him, “Is this silk?”

“Good guess. How’d you know?”

She laughs, finally letting go to rest a hand on his chest. “It’s funny you think I wouldn’t,” she says, finger tapping his suit with every word.

Chat chuckles, before letting his hands find new area, moving from her waist to exposed back and pulling her close in one motion. Hands cold, Marinette feels a set of goosebumps run down her body.

For once, they were skin to skin. Nothing else, and nothing more. For once, hands wouldn’t have to imagine how the other felt like or wish their suits had been better equipped for certain moments between the two.

Moments like this.

“You know, you did really good last battle,” he says, fingers admiring the toned muscle that lay underneath his Lady. He let his hands go up and down the small of her back, a gentle swoop that let a hum release from her mouth as he did so.

“Now did I?” she asks, eyes closing as she took in his touch.

“Yes. Maybe the best you’ve ever been.”

“I’m sure I could be better.” Marinette’s hands play with the material under his tie, at the row of buttons that beg for her to touch. “You were _amazing_, though. I’m surprised I hadn’t seen moves like that before.”

“A cat’s always learning. There’s just so much to explore, you know.”

Marinette undoes a button. “Didn’t curiosity kill the cat?” she asks, making to undo another.

“Maybe it did,” Chat responds, his hands going down to her dress fabric again. One quick motion, and he’s tugging the zipper down. “But satisfaction brought back.”

Her hands come down to her back, stopping him before he gets to the end. “I don’t think so,” she says, admiring the way he did a sound of protest as she zipped it back up.

“But- “

Marinette’s finger comes up, pressed to his lips and stopping him. “If we’re doing anything, _minou_, we need to think it all out first. If you hadn’t noticed, the dress doesn’t cover much, and I’m not on board with the world catching sight of hickeys on a superhero.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” Chat asks, her finger doing little to stop him from talking. “I think you look rather nice with spots, lovebug.”

“So do I. But there’s a difference between my suit and my skin, don’t you think?”

Chat grabs her hand that’s propped before his mouth, giving a quick kiss onto her knuckles. A soft one, one that he repeats this time above her radial pulse, Marinette’s heart beating so fast she’s sure he can feel it against his lips.

“Definitely,” he answers, before he lays one last kiss in the same spot. “A very nice difference.”

“You’re a flirt,” she says, pulling her hand away even while her cheeks start to warm at the contact. He reaches for her, and Marinette takes a step back, dodging his touch.

“If I’m a flirt, then what does that make you?”

“A tease,” she responds, stopping for just a moment to give him hope he’s gotten hold of her. Chat’s hands barely brush her arms before she takes another step back, waiting for him to follow. And he does, only for her to take another step back, each time letting him get just barely in contact with her body.

An arm here, her hand there. He had almost gotten hold of her waist with their last step, and should he reach out once more Marinette was sure he might win.

_Might_.

Their game ends when her body bumps into a desk, unable to tell what surrounded them and leaving to a quick finish. Marinette puts a hand down on the desk to help keep her balance as she leans back, waiting for Chat.

“Nowhere left for you to run,” he says. He steps closer, a hand just barely touching her leg.

“Who says I didn’t want you to catch me?” Her free hand coming up, Marinette lets it rest on the back of his neck, enjoying the way she could play with the tiny bits of his hair.

_His hair was soft_, she notes. _Easy to play with. Probably even easier to tug on._

“What now?” he asks.

“Now,” she responds, tugging him closer, “let’s have some fun.”

His lips reach her before his hands do. Pulling Chat down, she’s glad her heels give her some leverage tonight, letting her reach him without the use of pulling herself up on her toes. She lets him savor it, slow and gentle at first, before she. They hadn’t kissed in a few days, and Marinette was beginning to feel a craving that needed to be satisfied, one that couldn’t be solved so easily by a simple peck.

No, these things took time to please, time that Marinette was more than willing to give up.

Her hand rising from his neck, she took a certain thrill in the way it dived into his hair, nestling itself in curls she finally could enjoy the feeling of after so long. Marinette let her nails dig in gently to his scalp, up and down tracing into him and enjoying the way he tensed every so often, ready to keep him at bay as long as she could.

Then, his hands were on her.

It was all too much and not enough in one go, one hand coming up to cradle her head and another going down low, into the open space of her back where no dress would keep him confined. Chat’s hand went up and down her spine, each dance of his fingers just enough to keep her anticipating the next. His other hand mimicked what she was doing to his own hair, but Marinette could admit that he had more range as it went. Chat could make it last longer, gathering a bunch of hair and carrying it from the root to the end, where he’d give a slight tug just enough to drive her crazy.

And it did. For as well as they knew each other as partners, they knew what worked with each other in the everything that revolved around that title, suits doing little to stop their hands from getting what they want. The added sensation of actually _feeling_ what they were touching elevated everything, each spot Marinette had been victim to before coming undone in a whole new way now.

There was something devious in the way he moved, playing with her back and inching upwards towards her neck, where the upper half of her dress was held up by a set of clasps. A set of clasps that held the two pieces of fabric wrapping around her chest together, one quick movement all that was needed to send them down. It almost seemed too tempting to let him undo it and ravish her in the comfort of darkness, so worthwhile to allow her and Chat to enjoy the moment as best as they could.

So much so that when the time came, she pulled her lips away, a quick inhale of breath and waiting as his fingers rested on the clasp.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, voice low and ready for any answer she had to give.

“More than okay.” Feeling how his fingers moved, she wished she could see how Chat looked in this moment, imagining his face as she answers, “Just don’t leave any marks anyone can see.”

There’s something thrilling and nerve-wracking in the next moment, when his fingers fly underneath and the clasps come undone far too quickly, too skilled she almost wants to know where he’s learned that from. The straps come down not too long later, resting mid-torso and bunching up where their chests meet. Marinette feels her chest rise and fall much easier now, with nothing in the way.

Nothing in the way from _him_, either. Face going red, she’s glad her first time half-naked with him is in a locked, dark room. It still doesn’t stop Chat from saying anything though.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You can’t even see me.”

“No,” he agrees, hands coming to rest easy at her hips. “But I can touch you.”

In a move good enough to save the day, Chat’s not so much lifting as he is hiking her up, sitting her down onto the desk in a way she can’t say she doesn’t like. Her legs opening up for his body to come closer, the slit on her side falls down, leg exposed without anything to cover it.

Chat follows her instructions well, open-mouthed kisses that trail down following the path hidden from the public’s eye, where normally the straps would be. He starts from the right, a moment in between each kiss that has Marinette biting her lip, trying not to make a sound that’d alert anyone over to investigate the longer he draws this out. When he reaches the outskirts of her breast, he pointedly avoids kissing anywhere directly onto it, choosing instead to take part in slight touches to the sides, the dip that leads to the space between the two, and a path making it’s way up her left side now.

It’s torture. Pure, horrendous, absolute _torture_. Marinette wants nothing more than to have him digging into her, teeth digging into a bottom lip in an attempt to hold herself back the more his mouth trails away from her chest and upwards now.

Marinette can almost feel the smile on his face when she gasps, a reaction to the sudden nibble he takes, one that has her hooking her legs behind him. He does it again, pleased with her reaction every time he makes his way down. And again. And _again_, this time letting a hand come up and cup one breast as he moves toward the other. His thumb brushes just so lightly at her nipple, and Marinette can feel her nipple harden as a reaction.

It’s enough to keep the fire inside her burning, warming up her skin with every touch he makes and waiting for the blaze to go wild.

Marinette feels her nerves go on edge when he starts to suck down harshly on her skin, taking the same path as before. She can tell by the way her skin rises up each time he’s going to leave a mark on her skin everywhere his touch went, and can’t help but hope he’ll take longer with some marks rather than the others, legs now tightly hooked around him in anticipation.

Chat waits a moment, lips dragging down slowly her breast. He takes his time, unaware of how eager Marinette goes, counting down the seconds before he reaches his target. His mouth finally wrapping around, he doesn’t hesitate before sucking harshly, causing a moan to leave Marinette mouth and her hands to find peace in his hair again.

She digs into his hair, holding on tightly, curling, and uncurling the longer he goes at it. Chat gave no mercy, which Marinette didn’t find the need to complain about the longer he made good use of her assets. He was all hers, and hers alone, and every second that went by rung it in as true. Mouth free to do whatever, Chat let his tongue circle her nipple, slow enough that Marinette felt she was in Sunday school the way she moaned out holy names that surely _shouldn’t_ have been uttered, much less in their current situation. He’d tease her, waiting until the way she wrapped around him must’ve hurt before giving her the satisfaction of a hard suck, taking her back into his mouth and being the cause for every single one of Marinette’s trips up and down his hair, her only way to work through the bouts of pleasure coursing through her body.

She freezes when one trip down his scalp leaves her tugging at the string holding his mask upright, nearly pulling it down in one motion. Marinette stills, separating from him with a loud _pop_ and scooting up on the desk as if it’ll keep him at bay, stop themselves before they get too close.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- “ she’s already letting out, but he stops her before it finishes, hands coming to grab at hers.

“Don’t worry,” he says, even as she can tell Chat’s voice is searching for air. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“You do?”

His hand comes to cup her cheek, holding her gently. “Of course. You wouldn’t unmask me.”

Her heart speaks before her mind, too overcome with the want in the moment.

“I mean, I could if I wanted to.”

Chat chuckles, his other hand coming up and both playing with her mask, feeling the design out. “But you don’t, lovebug.”

Her voice is quiet as she asks him, “Who said I didn’t?”

There’s a moment of silence between them. They look each other, seeing nothing and yet everything at the same time.

Darkness, a kind that only appears once every so often.

A moment alone, not many that they could take advantage of.

Each other, with skin touching skin, with no clue for the next occurrence.

It’s almost too easy of a choice. Hands flying up to hold onto the end of their strings, it’s almost a telepathic countdown between the two.

_One…_

_Two.._

_Three._

The masks were off. And with that, so were all other restraints.

A knock ends it all in a heartbeat, dread seeping into their bloodstreams and a panicked reaction coming from both. Her hand coming up to pull the two pieces back up, Marinette quickly clasps the straps while Chat runs a hand through his hair, desperately trying to tame the mess she had made.

“Yes?” Chat asks, a hand flying out to help her smooth any creases in the dress.

“Ladybug? Chat Noir?” a voice calls from the end, strong and affirmative. “The banquet begins in five minutes, and it’s pertinent that you two return to your table. Quickly, please.”

“No problem,” Marinette answers, even while she lifts a hand up to feel her lips. Her lipstick was definitely smudged, a quick fix she’ll have to do in the hallway on their way back. Chat Noir as well she assumes, no way that he’ll have gone unscathed in the heat of the moment. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

“Of course. I’ll alert everyone so they’ll be alerted of your entrance.”

They hear the sound of footsteps walking away from the door, growing more and more muffled until they can no longer hear. Marinette hops off the desk, her hands coming out to hold onto Chat’s shoulders and support her balance. Fumbling around the table for her mask, she grabs it and quickly secures it, a tight knot that wouldn’t be undone any time soon.

Chat lets his hands grab hers, taking the calm before the storm to speak. “Ladybug,” he starts, “I think you should know this. I think I’m in love with- “

Marinette kisses him before he can finish, knowing what he’s about to say and unable to stop herself. It’s a soft kiss, one that means more in the few seconds they have left to share. Pulling away, she puts something in his hand, something that doesn’t need much guessing to figure out.

“I think I am too,” she tells him. She smiles, a grin no one but her would see. “Don’t forget your mask.”

* * *

The trouble occurs with the next akuma, a week later when Chat just so happens to return from his trip and a night after the city of Paris had been celebrating his noticed return. They kept the bars open later than usual, had performers posted in the metro and unwanted tourists crowding the streets, waiting for the chance to see the kitten on the prowl.

There had even been reports of Ladybug around Paris as well, although it was a bit harder to find proof of that claim. No one knew why she was out, but one could speculate that there was a maybe a special patrol in order. A meeting that needed to be attended, and a welcoming back only she could give Chat Noir.

But nothing ever was as nice as it seemed. One night of peace would always lead to days of misery, a common trade-off when it came to life in Paris. Evil didn’t rest, and neither did Hawkmoth, leaving an early morning akuma neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir were well equipped for. Or for that matter, wanted to deal with.

Still, with the city in peril, it was something they couldn’t ignore for later. Safe citizens were more important than five more minutes in bed, no matter how much Marinette’s body ached as she aimed and threw her yo-yo.

With their bodies tired and minds not working up to speed, it wasn’t surprising that Chat Noir got hit so easily, the akuma striking him when he was mid yawn and sending him reeling into the nearest building, leaving cracks in the wall from where he landed. Marinette tried to mask just how concerned she was as she went to his side, but it became harder and harder these days to act as if everything was alright. It _wasn’t_, and she couldn’t pretend that for the sake of an akuma attack.

More and more often, Marinette worried she would have to pretend one day.

“Chat!” she exclaims, a hand held out, ready to check him for any injures. He grabbed it, perhaps a bit too strong for her liking, but Marinette cared less about the strength of his grip and more about his well-being. Searching his face, she looked to see for any signs he was in pain.

Instead, she catches a glint in his eyes, a glint that warned Marinette her trusted partner might not be in the best shape right now. Suddenly, the grip he had on her hand seemed to hurt, tightening with every second.

“Chat?” she asks, even while she knows it’s pointless. Marinette’s been down this road before, so many times so she knows she needs to start running, and _now_. She yanks her hand out of his grip, swinging her yo-yo.

She’s lucky to swing out when she does, claws out and scratching the air. Usually, there’d be something simple to cure the day. A kiss, or a hit hard enough that he’d come down back to Earth and leave her apologizing all week.

But now, Marinette’s coming up empty, without a clue coming up to help her out.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she says, watching Chat.

He grins, shaking his hand out and stepping forward, intent on following her. “You don’t have a choice.”

Marinette tries not to take the look Chat Noir gives her to heart, knowing whatever’s come over him is nowhere close to the Chat she knows. None of it is, and she’ll repeat it as long as and often as she has to.

Over the years, the typical brainwashing an akuma did became darker, more powerful with each go. Marinette had a theory it was due to how much love someone held, and just how easily it could be turned into something of equal power. And with the look her gave her just now, wicked and positively ready to tear her heart out, Marinette felt like she was right.

That look, which only had one emotion Marinette could describe.

_Hate_.

When they were younger, it was easier to deal with. Back then, they had room to learn and grow, time to figure out what worked and what didn’t. Chat and her were always willing to talk it out afterwards, and even when he got a few good licks in, she never took it past another part of the job, always pointing out the hits she laid on him too.

They still did, but now, it was different. It went past the fist bumps and side hugs that they used to give, and nothing more. Now, they were _something_, hidden to the entire world save for each other. They had grown up and went through plenty of obstacles in their path, and with it experienced a feeling protect everything around them for as long as they could manage.

To Marinette, she wanted nothing more than to keep Chat Noir safe. And Marinette was sure he was willing to do the same and more for Ladybug. For _her_.

She doubted she’d get the chance for that now. Tired, sore, and wanting nothing more than to curl back up in her bed, Marinette knew the odds were stacking up against her the longer the fight went on.

And on top of that, they had the one thing she didn’t at the moment. Him.

To say he was going tough on her was an understatement. The regular power and strength he held as Chat Noir was at an all-time high with the akuma’s blessing onto him. The akuma who sat back and watched under orders from Hawkmoth, growing impatient as they waited. The akumatized person had goals they wanted to achieve, plans that were halted while Ladybug and Chat Noir hashed it out for everyone to see, and forced to abide by Hawkmoth’s orders until stated otherwise.

_Hawkmoth_, she thought, a sense of disgust growing at just the thought of his name. Marinette could tell he had a certain fondness towards these moments, the battle between morals and obligation holding her back every time she had to fight someone she cared for. Where he took thrill in watching her fight her closest partner, with eyes that were never so cold and dark.

With a fright, Marinette wondered if Hawkmoth could tell just how much she cared for Chat Noir, something that almost made her reconsider how much she tried not to hurt him.

_Almost_. She took care as it went on, restraining him with her yo-yo or swinging up to a height Marinette knew would be a challenge for Chat Noir to catch up to. She contemplated throwing projectiles his way, but fought against it, nervous of what might happen if she threw with too much force.

She wished Chat Noir felt the same way.

When unhinged, he was merciless, a ball of energy that never seemed to falter. He worked with one purpose in mind, so determined and striving to accomplish his goal. A trait she always loved in him when they fought side by side, but it was hard on the other end of it, with stamina she was sure came with the akuma’s hit.

Suddenly, reaching up for the ledge to the rooftop to pull herself up on, Marinette feels a hand wrapping around her foot. She only gets a moment to look down, to see the face she had laid kisses on just the night before smile up, teeth on full display as he pulls her down.

She would never get used to the falling, no matter how many times she fell of her own accord or had the rug pulled up underneath her by a villain. The seconds stretch out like hours, feeling she like’s going in slow motion while she plans what to do, body rushing down to the ground at speeds she knew the miraculous wouldn’t be able to protect against.

Reaching for her yo-yo she flings it out at random and closes her eyes, hoping it’ll snag on anything around her before she met the ground. With a relief it does, jerking her body up too harshly and making her

With relief, she feels her body jerk up, the string latching on and supporting her as she tries to keep a tight grip. Arm crying out in pain from the sensation, Marinette grits her teeth and stays calm, sliding down the string until she’s a good enough distance off the ground she can release and collapse without worry. Her legs buckling from the stress, she falls to the floor, arms shaking as Marinette tries to support herself, to get it together.

She doesn’t get the chance, Chat Noir’s baton touching down in front of her and a swift kick to her shoulders pushing her back, back coming in contact with the pavement. Marinette bangs her head down as well and feels a sharp pain, head aching so hard she’s surprised it didn’t crack open right then and there. Hand coming down, she struggles as she attempts to get up, feeling the pain become all too much.

Distantly, she feels someone over her, eyes opening to see Chat standing over her, baton raised as he aims directly at her chest.

Marinette’s scrambling back now, feeling around for something, anything that could be used against him. She comes up empty, her hands grasping at nothing but the air and her heart threatening to leap out of her chest with every exhale. Morbidly, she’s glad no news reporters have made it to the scene yet. Marinette would feel awful if someone had to watch Ladybug go down in broad daylight, down at the hands of her partner no less.

Her partner, who’s working against the will of what he truly wants. Who’s looking at her in a way he never does before, who’s inching a smile across his face, a smile she’s never seen. Who usually never would look so menacing, especially not towards _her_.

Her hands holding herself up, she watches him. Thinks. She tries to make sense of it all, tries to find the solution that’ll bring him back to his senses. A kiss would work, but she’d have to move quick, too much for her sore body right now and definitely not making it far before Chat fought back. A hit or two always worked, but Marinette already knows she wouldn’t have neither the strength nor will to go through with it. She couldn’t. It was Chat, for God’s sake. How could she? That’d be exactly what Hawkmoth wanted to see happen. He wanted to see her crumble, collapse on top of the pedestal everyone had put her on.

Wait. He wanted to see her, didn’t he?

With a jolt, Marinette realizes the akuma isn’t in the alley. No one’s surrounding them. Or watching them. She can hear the distant sounds of them arguing, yelling off to who she assumed was Hawkmoth on the other end.

She had seen this before, when akumatized victims argued back, not taking his instructions kindly and facing his wrath in a matter of minutes. Marinette knew it all too well, up close and witnessed the way they so often came back to his control, willing to do whatever he wanted so long as he let them keep their abilities. She recognized it, and knew it was prime time to take advantage of it.

It was a moment alone, a moment she can steal away in the same way she had done time and time again under different circumstances.

_“Spots off.”_

The suit comes off in an instant, a few mere seconds before pink fills the alley and leaves the two. Her suit is replaced by pajamas, and the typically neat pigtails are gone, messy and strands falling out. She feels the hard pavement underneath her, and the way it digs into hands. Her body cries out in pain, begging for a moment to relax and rest, but Marinette pushes through it, gritting her teeth and feeling the familiar sting of tears come to her eyes.

Chat’s breath hitches, baton poised in the air as he looks at her. The baton shakes in his grip, before clattering only inches away from her. Watching, Marinette sees the way his eyes change, switch back to the same compassionate look she had seen over and over before. The way his mouth opens and closes searching for words, looking over at her body and most likely observing the way she looked absolutely in pain.

The way he comes back to her, all traces of bad gone.

“Marinette?”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @mari-cheres! :D


End file.
